Boxed In
by AnastaziaDanielle
Summary: When the boys get stuck in an elevator, Sam discovers that Dean is claustrophobic.


Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Author's Note: This story came to me after I nearly got stuck in a tiny, dim, dingy elevator with two other adults and three therapy dogs. I am horribly claustrophobic. I will not be riding that elevator again! Thanks to LadyWallace for helping me brainstorm. This fic didn't turn out the way I'd planned, and I've wrestled with it all week.

Boxed In

Sam pressed the "up" button for the elevator and turned to wait for his brother. He frowned at the tight expression on Dean's face. "What?" he asked in confusion.

"Nothing," Dean answered shortly as the doors slid open revealing the interior of the older building's elevator. "Let's get this interview over with so we can gank the bad guy." He glared at the tiny box of an elevator as memories of the smell of damp earth and suffocating closeness threatened to overwhelm him. It took all of his self-control, but he forced himself to focus on the case at hand.

Sam sighed and knew better than to press his brother for more details. Sam held the elevator doors open and stepped inside.

Dean hesitated only briefly before following his brother. The elevator was small and dim with one light burned out. Wooden paneling made the tiny box seem even smaller and darker. The tile floor was dingy and dusty with dusty bunnies scattered in the corners. This elevator had not been serviced in some time. As Dean stepped inside, he felt as if the walls and ceiling were closing in on him. He swallowed hard and tried to ignore the sweat that beaded across his forehead as Sam pressed the button for the second floor and the door slid shut. Once again, the smell of damp earth invaded Dean's nostrils and the darkness of being buried alive surrounded him. He swallowed hard and concentrated on his breathing. He didn't want Sam to know anything was wrong.

The elevator shuddered, but didn't move. Dean felt his throat tighten as Sam reached out his arm and jabbed the button for the second floor once again. The elevator made a whining noise, but remained stationary.

"Huh," Sam grunted as he pushed the button for the first floor and then the "door open" button. The door slid open about an inch and then stopped. He grasped the door and tried to push it open. The door wouldn't budge. "Just great," he growled with a heavy sigh.

"Move over, Sam," Dean choked out, his breath now coming in harsh pants. He added his strength to his brother's but the door refused to open. Dean slammed his palms against the cool metal in frustration and growled out a curse. The tiny elevator was getting warm and stuffy; it was hard to breathe.

"Oh, man," Dean ground out between clenched teeth as he whirled away from his brother and began to pace the tiny enclosure. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, and he forced himself to stop and lean against the elevator's wall. The tiny box seemed to grow smaller and smaller.

"Dean?" Sam questioned quietly as he reached for the elevator's phone. Sam didn't like the way sweat was beading across his brother's forehead and upper lip. Dean's breaths were coming in rapid pants and his face was pale. He watched as Dean rubbed an unsteady hand over his face and noticed that the older Winchester kept his eyes closed.

"Dean, are you all right?" Sam queried, worry spiraling through him as Dean leaned over and braced his hands against his knees. Sam nearly dropped the phone in his haste to check on his brother. "Dean?"

"'M'kay, Sammy," Dean managed in a ragged voice. "Just get us out of here, huh?" He felt Sam's hand drop onto his shoulder. "Sam, the phone!" he snapped. "I need to get out, okay?"

Sam studied his brother for a moment as he finally put two and two together. It was the confined space of the elevator that was getting to his brother. Dean had never been claustrophobic in the past, but that was before he'd had to dig himself out of a grave with his bare hands. "Okay, just hang on," Sam placated as he reached for the emergency phone and reported the elevator's malfunction.

"They're going to come get us out, Dean," he informed his brother. "It shouldn't take them too long."

Dean leaned his head back against the wall. He stared up at the ceiling and felt the sudden urge to claw at the walls and scream. It was like being buried alive all over again. His chest tightened and black spots dotted his vision.

"Dean," Sam spoke softly as he squatted next to his brother, "you need to calm down, man. Try taking some deep breaths."

Sam's voice sounded as if it was coming from far away. Dean's legs felt like jelly and they gave away beneath him as his chest tightened even further. His fingers were tingling and his vision darkened further.

"Stay with me, man," Sam encouraged him as he rested a hand on Dean's shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. "Just concentrate on your breathing. Keep your eyes closed and don't look at the elevator walls. They will have us out of here soon." Sam could feel the perspiration seeping through Dean's shirt. He could see the front of the shirt was damp and sticking to his brother's chest.

"I'm okay," Dean choked out as he tried to shove Sam's hand off of his shoulder with his own trembling fingers.

"Could have fooled me," Sam sighed. "Look, Dean, it's natural that you could be claustrophobic after what happened to you."

"I'm not claustrophobic, Sam," Dean argued even as he cursed inwardly when his voice shook. This elevator was going to be his grave. He couldn't dig his way through metal. There was no way out. They were going to die in here. Dean's chest tightened further. It was hard to breathe.

"Then what's wrong, because it looks to me like you're having a panic attack?" Sam responded evenly as he returned his hand to his brother's shoulder.

Dean didn't respond. He didn't have the air to respond with, and his mouth felt as dry as cotton. He tried to swallow and felt like he was choking.

"Take it easy," Sam said calmly, his hand rubbing in soothing circles on his brother's back as Dean leaned forward and tried to catch his breath.

"Can't, Sammy," Dean groaned. "It's like the walls are closing in on me." He was going to pass out and then die in here. This small metal box would be their grave.

"Yes, you can," his younger brother urged him. "I'm right here with you. You've got this, Dean."

Dean's heart pounded in his chest. He nearly felt as if it was going to explode. He had to get out of here. Shakily, he shoved Sam out of the way and used the paneled wall of the elevator to haul himself to his feet. Dean lurched forward toward the door and grasped at it with shaking hands. He threw his body against the door as he tried to shove it open. When that didn't work, he grabbed the edge and pulled until his fingers were aching and his nails cracked and ragged. He heard Sam's voice as if from a distance, but ignored it.

"Dean!" Sam frowned when his brother didn't respond. "Dean!" he called louder, watching as Dean frantically tried to extricate himself from the elevator. Sam stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his older brother as he struggled to haul him away from the door. "The firefighters are here. Listen, do you hear their voices?" Sam growled into his brother's ear.

Dean ignored him and continued to struggle. "I have to get out of here, Sam!" the older Winchester argued as he tried to wrangle himself out of his brother's arms.

"And we will," Sam promised with a grunt as Dean's elbow delivered a powerful blow to his stomach. "Close your eyes and listen," Sam demanded. "The firefighters are right outside of the door. They'll have us out soon." Voices filtered in from the hallway just outside the elevator.

Dean swallowed hard and swayed in Sam's arms, his legs giving way beneath him. Sam caught him as he sunk to the floor and lowered him gently to the dirty, scuffed tile.

"We'll be out of here in a few, dude," Sam reassured his older brother, his hand rubbing rhythmically between Dean's shoulder blades in a pattern Dean had used to comfort him many times. "Breathe, Dean. Come on." He grasped his brother's sweaty, trembling hand and pressed it to his chest. "Match your breaths to mine."

"I've got to get out of here, Sam," Dean pleaded in a raspy voice. "I can't take much more of this."

"Imagine you're at Bobby's," Sam pointed out. "Picture all of the cars; can you smell the motor oil?" He watched the pallor of Dean's face with concern.

The older Winchester swallowed hard. "I'm in an elevator, Sam. It's as tight as a coffin buried six feet under."

Sam gave his brother a shake. "Listen to me! We are getting out of here. Remember that time at Bobby's we got stuck in that old clunker car in the back of the lot?" Sam knew he had to distract his brother. Dean's hand continued to shake beneath his where it rested against Sam's chest.

"What?" Dean asked, still breathing way too fast.

"I think I was about five," Sam chuckled. "I climbed in that old red car and you came in after me. I was pretending to be a race car driver. But then we couldn't get the doors open, and we knew Dad and Bobby were going to be upset if we didn't show up soon."

Dean forced himself to listen to Sam's voice, its familiar rhythm bringing him some comfort.

Sam noticed his brother's breathing had begun to slow, so he continued. "You used your elbow to break the glass in the passenger side window and helped me climb out."

"Bled like a stuck pig," Dean remembered out loud with a frown.

"How many stitches?" Sam asked, glad to see his brother calming down.

"Ten," Dean reminded him. "All thanks to you, Samantha."

"Hey, you climbed in there with me," Sam reminded him with a smirk, "and you were old enough to know better."

The elevator door slid open another inch, and both brothers surged to their feet. "You guys okay in there?" the voice of a firefighter called out to them.

"We're good," Sam called out, his hand squeezing the back of his brother's neck in quiet reassurance. Dean's skin was sweaty and clammy, but he would be okay. Sam would make sure of that.

"Stay back," the firefighter called out again. "We're having to use a crow bar. This thing's as stubborn as an old mule."

Dean tugged his younger brother toward the back of the elevator as the door inched slowly open.

"All right, I think you can fit through here," the same firefighter called again.

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He surged forward and squeezed his body through the opening, breathing deeply once he was out of the tiny elevator. The cooler air of the hallway felt good against his clammy skin. He could finally breathe normally now that the walls and the ceiling were no longer pressing in on him.

Sam seemed to relish the cooler air as well as he stepped out after his brother and turned to the firefighters. "Thank you for getting us out," he told them.

"You are very welcome," one of the firefighters replied. "Hope you guys aren't claustrophobic."

Sam huffed a small laugh. "We were fine."

He followed Dean who was walking down the hallway and running his hand through his sweaty, short hair. "Want to come back after a quick lunch?" Sam asked his older brother.

Dean shook his head and found the nearest stairwell. "Let's do this interview so we can gank this thing and get it over with," he muttered with determination. "But Sammy, that's the LAST time I get in some elevator the size of a pinhead," he grumbled. "I think that elevator was possessed. How do I let you get me into these situations, Bitch?"

Sam huffed a sigh and followed his brother up the stairs. "You're welcome, Jerk!"

The End


End file.
